Deviation
by Luci Ferre
Summary: Because she is his puppet to move at will, and a willing one, too. ONESHOT


New pairing tested this time! Mukuro x Chrome, sorry if you don't like.

Fourth fic, but by no means hold back on the criticism. I appreciate anything that can help me improve…except, of course, illegible and nonsensical flames.

Please do not copy, modify or redistribute this fan fiction in any way, anywhere, anyhow. This fan fiction is posted on FF(dot)net and LJ only.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!**

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'**:.; "D.e.v.i.a.t.i.o.n." ;.:'**

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Mukuro is a man who defies the norm.

That is what Chrome opines, whenever she has the time to spare. She rests her head on her palm and smiles as she thinks of him – of her idol, her saviour, her everything. She thinks of how his hair almost seems to sparkle in the light, when they traipse into his virtual world together; she thinks of how he regards her with those mismatched eyes of his (and they are quaint, she muses, giggling) with a genial smile always etched on his lips.

She still remembers the day she first saw him – how can she not? She had been a scrawny little thing, broken then ground into fine dust by lack of care. Mukuro found her quite by chance and offered her something she cannot deny her yearning for: acceptance. And assistance, yes. She needed help to stay alive, and Mukuro could do just that, _for her_.

That gesture meant the world to her. It still does today; it resonates deep in the core of the illusion that keeps her alive. With mild amusement, she wonders if her whole life is an illusion now. What will happen when it breaks? Besides her death, of course, because life is what Mukuro has given her.

But Chrome is selfish; if her life is an illusion, then she wants to keep it that way. She wants to continue being Mukuro's lap-dog, however degrading it is, because she respects him. She enjoys seeing his smirks when he sees her blind obeisance, the glint in his eye when she agrees to anything he says - because she is his puppet to move at will, and a willing one, too.

Chrome holds no illusions of him loving her – Mukuro is older, wiser, stronger. Those tiny gestures that mean so much to her are charity to him. It hurts sometimes, but if hurt is the equivalent of his love then she rather it continues for ever more. Reciprocation is impossible, so she pretends and she hopes. Oh, yes, she hopes. Hope is dear to her, something she seals in a vial and drinks only in careful sips, with lips of ice and fingers of glass.

Oftentimes she wonders if Mukuro knows of her secret feelings. Certainly there is a distance between them he seldom breaches, as though his wizened mind senses the shift in her equilibrium and moves to act against it. She doesn't like it, but her feelings are secret for a reason, so she seals her lips with iron and ties herself down to reality.

When she feels poetic, she likens her forbidden love to many things: she has called it 'butterfly wings' once, and a 'poisonous apple'. It can in fact be more than that; it can also be less. Ah, the power of imagination…. Chrome slides a finger into her cup of tea and watches the delicate ripples dance away from her touch. How elusive, just like her love.

_Chrome__, my dear?_

She likes the way he speaks her name, with a lilt to it that makes her name sound all the more special. She imagines his lips moving with the syllables, slowly and sensuously in the way Mukuro does everything, and she swoons.

_Mukuro-sama_, she whispers, her inner voice rich with longing.

The outside world vanishes. Chrome stays calm, recognising the new environment for what it is. A guilty thrill snakes down her body.

Mukuro strolls to her, taking his time; there is a swagger, a new lightness to his step that Chrome has not seen before. She checks his right eye. The kanji for 'six' blazes there, branding Mukuro with both a blessing and a curse. Six lifespans, six different lives, six skills learned. She knows all this and more.

_Chrome, darling_, he says as he comes nearer. _I hope I did not disturb you?_

Chrome shakes her head, almost too fast in her haste to reassure him. _Never, Mukuro-sama_, she murmurs reverently. _Nothing is more important than you._

He looks pleased with her answer and she risks a glance at his lips, wishing to steal more from them than just her name. Her fingers itch to find their way into his hair. Why must it come to this? Is this as far as it can stretch – with mere dreams and fantasy? She hides her bitterness behind a smile.

She looks up in surprise when Mukuro reaches down and cups her cheek, peering into her eyes with such gentleness it melts her heart and dips it in chocolate. Her mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out. Idiot, she chastises herself. Why must she be tongue-tied now, of all times?

_Hmm_. Mukuro exhales, letting his breath ghost past her cheeks in the lightest of brushes, just enough to make her want more. Chrome almost whimpers when it is gone. _Something is different today, dear Chrome_, he says.

Her heart skips a beat. _How so, Mukuro-sama?_ She asks, leaning a little into his touch.

_Kufufu…_. He smiles, a sugar-coated smile that may or may not be genuine. Truly he has perfected the art of deception. Chrome pockets that smile anyway.

_Sometimes I tire of my quest for the Vongola's body._ He nuzzles her ear, and Chrome allows herself to imagine Mukuro whispering words to her – loving words with puffy wings, cutting words with jagged knives, and kind words iced with chocolate.

_Ah?_ She cocks her head to the side questioningly. _Is there anything I can do to help?_ Her heart flutters with her question.

_I knew you'd say that._ Mukuro takes a step closer, striding over the gap between them. Their noses almost touch; Chrome is taking most of his weight as well as her own, but she does not mind. A nervous giggle escapes her.

_Well then._ Mukuro snakes a hand behind her head and brings her close, burying his face in her hair. He ruffles her locks like he would the petals of a flower. _Entertain me._

It is an order; Mukuro does not speak with authority, but Chrome knows that everything he says is said with finality, not to be questioned. She weighs his words for what they are worth.

_Entertain you?_ She purrs. A slight trembling rumbles in her core.

_Why, yes, dear Chrome._ Mukuro grins. _Entertain me like a doll_.

And Chrome obeys, with a little smile where genuflecting is impossible, and threads her deft fingers into his hair. Lips work around his cheeks, on his neck, and when she got more daring, _his_ _lips_. She captures his soft, luscious ones with her own, holding her breath for fear of puffing it all away.

Mukuro stays where he is, in a relaxed position on the ground which Chrome has directed him into – gently, of course. She forbids herself to feel miffed that he does not respond. He is Mukuro, after all, and he asked her to entertain him _like a doll._ Dolls do not have minds to think with; they do not have hearts to hurt.

She gets as far as slipping her fingers under his collar before he utters a command to stop. He sits up straighter, kisses her on the forehead, and vanishes with a brief goodbye. And like a doll whose mechanics has been halted, Chrome sits where she is, hands frozen where it once touched living flesh.

Mukuro comes back many times after that, and every time Chrome gets no further than a tremulous touch of his body. He never responds; Chrome has gotten used to that. Her hands find their home in his hair again, and on his chest where she rests her head, content to listen to the palpitations of his heart. She wonders if it beats true.

Once in a while he leans into her butterfly kisses, but only to nudge her when her ministrations grow slack. She renews her efforts with a murmured _sorry_ into his mouth, and he nicks her tongue in playful retribution, knowing it excites her.

Whenever he does this her longing for him grows, and often she is left more broken than before, aching in both body and mind.

Mukuro claims to care for her; he whispers little things to her that she catches and keeps, every insignificant one of them, but he does this only in this dream world where no one else can see. She is willing to bet he won't do it in front of the other Guardians.

She loses that bet, and she does so with much grace. The day Mukuro proposes his engagement – not to her, but to the Guardians as a whole – is the happiest moment of her life. It is weird to hear _his_ voice speaking, but _her_ mouth moving as Mukuro uses her body (because she is his doll, he says, and she agrees) to tell the others, while she sits back in her mind.

He proposes to her later, sending a thought into her mind whilst the Guardians are silent, shell-shocked at the revelation. Chrome almost dances in glee.

For the first time that night, Mukuro initiates the _entertainment_, slipping his hands under the cusps of her bra as soon as they enter their world. Pure bliss cannot even describe what Chrome feels then. She reciprocates eagerly, and Mukuro complies, if only for that one night.

He even whispers 'I love you' into her ear, in the way she has yearned for since the dawn of her new time.

It is a strange relationship they share – with almost no physical touch at all, with only a warm, fuzzy feeling to let the other know they're there, but Chrome is satisfied.

She neglects to remember that this union was born of necessity _to keep her alive_, because who is she without Mukuro-sama?

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Chrome is just adorable, is she not? Plus the fact that she's the only (half?) guardian who's female in the group, and that equates to lots of imaginations. Hehe.

Love this? Hate this? Please review and tell me what you think!

PS: What pairing should I peruse next? I am at a loss.


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